The Knife
"I'm hanging in front of the knife, can someone help?"
Sweat dribbles, devastatingly slowly down my chin,
Trespassing onto my neck, it slides past the blade, moving tantalisingly close to my throat
All of this is the fault of mine
And I've dug my own grave.
This knife is of my creation, the embodiment of my mistakes,
The terrors that haunt me, every lie that follows me, and every misjudgment.
So I'll just hang here, tied into submission, upside down,
Watching the knife move towards me.
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Author guidance for This exercise
Originally by my friend Jack, he asked me to post it on my profile, so I thought I'd make a project of it, with his permission.Should develop into a series of prose poems, if all is carried out well.
EXERCISE TAGS
THE GOODS
You're currently reading a chapter in the exercise
The Surrounding Sounds. This chapter
was posted on Jan 14, 2011 by
Misfit.
This is a solo exercise.
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This exercise is filed under:
Descriptive Writing, Freewriting, Writing Prompt
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